


Mirrored

by mauvaise (wasted_wallflower)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (Eventual) Discussions of Polyamory, ALL THE ANGST, Alternate Universe, F/M, Graphic descriptions of violence, Intrigue, M/M, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Slaps roof of car, Sokka tries his best, This baby can fit a shit-ton of hurt/comfort and ANGST in it, Torture, Traumatized! Zuko, poor Zuko, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_wallflower/pseuds/mauvaise
Summary: Team Avatar won. All is well. Ozai’s defeated, Azula’s gone, and Sokka has his dream girl right beside him.Until he wakes up unexpectedly in a world where opposites reign. The Southern and Northern Water Tribes have exterminated firebenders, save for those that they keep as entertainment. Forced to impersonate his alternate counterpart, Sokka discovers that the world isn’t always black and white and while finding allies in a world fraught with enemies is hard enough, finding a way home will be even harder.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Mirrored

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for ATLA, and also my first attempt at a long-fic. I watched it when it dropped on Netflix, but it’s been a while, so I apologize for any OOCness (also, Sokka's voice was a bit difficult to write). 
> 
> Put simply, this is not going to be a fluffy fic. It will contain graphic descriptions of torture (not overly gory, but something that you might see in an “R” rated movie), mentions of past/current non-consensual sex acts, depictions of PTSD, self-harm, and panic attacks. If you are easily triggered by any of that, I would highly recommend not reading this. The prologue exists to serve as an introduction to this mirror-verse (to use Star Trek terminology) and it only goes downhill from there. Otherwise, please mind the tags. I will change the rating/tags as I see fit, and let you lovely readers know. 
> 
> As always, I am looking for a beta! If you see any grammatical errors or have any criticism of my writing, please let me know. It’s greatly appreciated.

They had won. 

Sokka couldn’t believe it. All those nights spent huddling around a campfire with nothing to eat except for increasingly stale seal jerky, all the times he and Katara and Aang nearly got killed, it all suddenly seemed so far away, as though it was another lifetime ago. He looked at Suki, almost absentmindedly taking in the smile on her face, the happiness reflected in her eyes, and kissed her. 

It was, by all accounts, a perfect kiss. Suki's lips were soft and pliant under his, and she sighed, her hands coming to rest up against his chest. One moved upwards, stroking his cheek with the type of tenderness that Sokka would have generally associated with a woman’s touch, had he not known how badass Suki was - and Sokka had to resist the urge to melt into it and stay in her _(surprisingly strong)_ embrace. 

And then, someone had the _audacity_ to cough. The two sprung apart, cheeks flushed and hair mussed, and Sokka glared - perhaps a bit too intently - at the interloper, which was, of course, Zuko. It was always Zuko. 

“Sorry,” Zuko said. His face was slightly pink, and Sokka hoped he was embarrassed. It would serve him right for interrupting a perfect kiss. Best friends didn’t interrupt kisses - they just didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Suki stated, at the same time as he exclaimed, “You should be.” Suki had an excellent punch; his arm stung viciously, and Sokka muttered, “ow.” As a man, he had standards to maintain, and screaming in pain was not one of them. 

Zuko stared at them in rapt attention, his eyes glancing back and forth between Sokka’s newly bruised arm and Suki’s blushing face. Sokka chose to break the silence, uncertain as to why Zuko was acting so _weird,_ and said, “Dude, did you want something?” 

“Katara and I captured Azula.” He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. “She’s going to get help and be away from our” his face twisted into a frown, “father.” 

“Your sister’s gone? Like _gone gone_?” It was perhaps a bit insensitive to say, considering that Azula, while crazy, was still Zuko’s family. A nod confirmed it. Sokka tackled him into a bear hug. 

A sputtering noise arose from his arms. “Can’t breathe,” Zuko choked out. He smelled nice too, like jasmine (probably from Iroh’s tea) and smoke and something wholly Zuko, so really, the only logical thing Sokka could do was to hug him more tightly. 

Suki giggled from behind him. “Sokka, you’re choking him. Let him breathe.” He reluctantly let go, missing the heat of Zuko’s body instantly. The air seemed oddly cold, and he found himself wishing he could give Zuko another bro-hug since they were _totally_ bros ( _not just best friends, but best bros!)_ by now; it was official. 

“Wait, does that mean I have to address you as Firelord?” 

The other man winced. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” He looked so perturbed by the idea that Sokka couldn’t help but laugh along with Suki, and eventually Zuko himself, joining in. 

The Jasmine Dragon was quiet - well as quiet as it could be with Toph’s constant snark, Aang’s even more blinding cheer, and Sokka’s failed attempts at drawing. He swore violently, ignoring Suki’s encouraging pats on the back. 

“Why won’t it come out right?” Momo stared at him, and Sokka swore that those beady eyes were looking into his soul. “I should have eaten you when I had the chance,” he muttered, his head hitting the table with a thunk. 

“Wow,” Katara’s voice cut through the chatter, “that _is_ a bad drawing.” She was holding Aang’s hand, and while he was happy that those two had _finally_ figured their feelings for one another, he didn’t want to see any smoochy-smoochy stuff happening. For _Tui_ , Katara was his little sister; it would be disgusting. 

“Like you could do any better.” 

Zuko sat down beside him, looking rather bereft. “May I?” His voice was soft and somewhat hoarse, and Sokka found himself handing the brush to him. 

“I didn’t know that you could draw.” Zuko hummed in response, “I didn’t have the time until now.” 

_Until now._ The words hit him with startling clarity, and yet again, it was so weird to think that it was over. That they could go home and live a normal life without the constant threat of war looming over the horizon. He looked around, observing Aang and Katara’s attempted-secret glances, Toph and Suki’s rancorous laughter, Iroh’s smile _(did the man ever tire of smiling?)_ , but mainly found his gaze drawn back to Zuko, to the slope of his cheekbones, the tight-knit, furrowed brow that he got when he was concentrating, and the almond-shape of his eyes, which were a shade of gold, unlike any other firebenders' that Sokka had seen. They were molten-warm, more tawny amber than harsh metal, and they were … _pretty._

“Do I have something on my face?” 

He jumped, startled. Zuko was looking at him, with his _pretty_ eyes, and he felt his cheeks burn, managing to squeak out, “Nope, your face is fine!” 

Zuko’s gaze was unwavering, and Sokka felt like he was about to break out into hives, which was _absolutely ridiculous_. “...okay, if you say so.” He finally said, turning away, leaving Sokka to his thoughts.

His mind raced. Zuko having pretty eyes wasn’t a bizarre thing to think, right? Suki and Aang had pretty eyes too, but it seemed more interesting since Zuko was his best bro. That had to be it!

It had to be. 

“Sokka, come over here!” Suki called out, and he jumped up, grateful at the opportunity to get away from his _completely platonic_ thoughts about his best bro Zuko. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, much to Toph’s chagrin, which she expressed with a rather loud, “Stop being lovey-dovey around me,” and a quick stomp that sent worrisome vibrations through the floor. Sokka stuck his tongue out at her. 

When was the last time he had been happy? Sokka wondered, surprised at how happy and carefree he felt for what appeared to be the first time in forever, with Suki beside him, her hand in his. He caught Zuko’s eye, and the two shared a smile before Zuko ducked his head, focusing on drawing. 

After dinner and some very amicable arguing, his elation remained. He couldn’t stop grinning; it was as though his facial muscles were permanently frozen in a smile, and Iroh remarked on it more than once with his usual cheer. Zuko cracked a smile at a rather inane joke, his golden _(pretty)_ eyes shining against the dusk, and he found himself drawn to him over and over as the evening continued. 

Suki’s gaze was scrutinizing; her lips quirked upwards in an enigmatic smirk that screamed _trouble_. She pressed herself against him, all muscle and womanly curves underneath that Sokka’s hands _itched_ to touch, and murmured, “You want to get out of here?” 

Oh, _Tui_ and _La_. It was happening. _Sex with Suki_ was happening.

_“Please.”_

* * *

Sokka woke up and realized two things. One - he was not in his tent, and two - Suki was longer beside him. “Suki?” He called her name groggily, blinking away any remaining sleep. _Where was she?_

“Who’s Suki?” Katara’s face swam before him, her pink-painted lips forming a faintly concerned frown. _Wait, when did Katara start wearing lipstick?_

“You’re joking, right? Suki’s my girlfriend. You know, the Kyoshi warrior?” There was no recognition in Katara’s eyes, and she said in a tone that verged on _bored_ , “Sokka, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Do you want to lie back down?” 

_Lie down?_ The room was familiar in a niggling way that Sokka couldn’t quite place, and _why were they moving?_

“Katara, why are we on a Fire Nation steamship?” She laughed slightly at that, wiping her eyes and inadvertently smearing the thick blue kohl that lined them. Her hair was different - no loops in sight - and her clothes! They were made of blue fabric, sheer and tight, showing far too much of her legs, stomach, and chest. 

“What are you wearing?!”

She rolled her eyes, and with a sneer, said, " _Tui,_ Sokka. Here’s a tip: don’t act like Father. I’m not a little girl anymore.” 

_Father?_ Katara regarded him, the brief concern she had shown minutes before fading off her face. A smirk replaced it, and she leaned towards him conspiringly. “Whatever you had last night, I want it. I haven’t seen you this out of it in a while.” 

“Katara, what are you talking about?” Her smirk widened, looking unnatural on her face, and a hand landed on his shoulder with an unexpected amount of force. 

“Seriously, Sokka. You have to let me try some. I can’t believe you - _party prince extraordinaire_ \- didn’t give me, your precious sister, any of it. It must be some strong stuff to make you think that those Fire Nation savages could make a ship of this caliber.” 

Something was horribly wrong. While prone to insulting him and others that crossed her, Katara would never call anyone - much less a whole nation - _savages._ Panic, hot and insidious, curled in his gut, forming a hard knot. He opened his mouth, about to ask her _exactly_ what was going on, and then the door opened, revealing shaggy brown hair and a rugged face. 

_Jet._

“Sokka. Princess.” He dipped his head to acknowledge Katara, and then, much to Sokka’s ever-increasing shock, _kissed_ her. 

_“What the fuck?”_ Sokka exclaimed, fully intending to stand up and separate the two, and also, preferably, kill Jet. However, when he attempted to do so, he was rooted to his seat, unable to do anything except bear witness to their kiss. 

“Dude, don’t tell me it still grosses you out when Kat and I kiss.” Jet said, grinning at him. It was eerie how much this Jet looked like the other Jet. The other Jet that was dead - _supposed to be dead, whatever._

“You’re supposed to be dead!” 

Jet snorted. “Please. Like those Fire Nation barbarians could take me down.” Katara let out a simpering giggle, staring adoringly at him, and Sokka’s panic further intensified. 

“Jet, Sokka’s on something that’s causing him to seriously trip, and he won’t give it to me.” She pouted, reaching up to wrap her arms around Jet’s neck. Between her hands, something glinted, and to Sokka’s horror, he realized it was their mother’s necklace. Katara had given Jet their mother’s betrothal necklace. _Willingly._

“You’re still drunk?” Jet asked, interest evident in his brown _(dead)_ eyes. “I mean, it makes sense considering you drank enough to kill a polar bear dog but damn. Whatever it is, let us in on it the next time.” 

Katara ran her hands through Jet’s hair, her lips uncomfortably close to his neck. “He kept going on about a girl named Suki, which was weird because I could have sworn he went back with a _boy_ last night.” Her gaze dropped to Sokka’s, full of shrewd curiosity and he had to resist the urge to shiver beneath it. It was cold and dark and _terrible_ \- an abyss containing no compassion, _no warmth._

“You got with a girl too?” Jet looked approving, and he ruffled Sokka’s hair with easygoingness that suited him staggeringly well - if one didn’t know what he was _really_ like beneath all that charisma. Sokka had a sinking feeling that both he and Katara knew the real Jet and that it wasn’t a problem for them here. 

He managed to sputter out, “I like girls. Only girls.” Both Jet and Katara laughed at that, and Jet winked at him, saying, “Sure, it’s not like when we were thirteen, you tried to kiss me or _anything_. I can’t blame you, though. I _am_ good-looking.” His _(stupid)_ chest puffed up, and Katara ran one elegant hand down it before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him in for another kiss. 

_What the actual fuck was going on?_

The boat stopped. Sokka’s limbs felt like jelly, and it vaguely hurt to stand. Katara grabbed him, pulling him up with strength she didn’t normally possess, and hissed, “I’m going talk to Father to cover for your wasted ass, but you owe me, Sokka.” Her nails dug into the exposed flesh of her arm, leaving red imprints behind.

“Mistress?” A soft, _familiar_ voice asked, and much to Sokka’s apprehension, he found himself looking at Azula. 

Only it wasn’t Azula.

Weak, fearful amber eyes replaced cruel, mad ones, and her hair was short, no longer in its signature top-knot. She was, he registered with a start, wearing a _collar._

“You’re late,” Katara stated, and not-Azula flinched. His sister must have noticed his baffled expression and snickered, “Sokka, she’s not going to hurt you. You designed that collar. After all, it’s full of saltwater to prevent -” 

“-bending. Conducting lighting would cause her to electrocute herself.” Sokka said numbly. Not-Azula stared at her hands. They were shaking. 

“Exactly,” Katara said, pleased. “Don’t worry, brother of mine. Yours should be coming soon.” She interlaced her arms with Jet’s, and not-Azula followed them, her head bowed, and shoulders slumped. 

“What do you -” Sokka cut himself off, a terrible sense of clarity washing over him. _Oh no._ A figure stood outside the door: his hands covered in burns, wearing a collar like Azula’s, unshorn black locks masking one side of his face. The other side had a scar - it was a more vivid red than Sokka remembered, but he would have recognized it anywhere. One dull golden eye looked at him impassively, as though he was unaffected by it all. 

_Zuko._


End file.
